there are goosebumps pricking on my shoulders, where strong, gentle hands are supposed to squeeze me and pull me close their chest. and there are tears on my cheek, where plush lips are supposed to kiss and whisper, till it's all right, till i know they care. there are shivers, running up and over my spin, where love, softness, and a hug would be.
(But of course, nothing ever replaces them.)
- echoweb (a.m)